The cross of all our human sin
by wren3
Summary: The cross of all our human sin: A young Witch student's struggles, not in Harry's time. CHAPTER TWO ADDED!
1. Prologue: november, 1557

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Hello all! This is kind of a different Harry Potter fic, I think, or I hope, anyway, in that there's no Harry, in fact, it's safe to say that there will be very few characters from J.K. Rowling But one important one remains, and is serving as a refuge in one of the wizarding world's darkest hours. One young girl in particular finds shelter offered behind the school walls. But will she accept it? And even if she does, will that guarantee that she will be protected from her greatest danger – herself? 

Oh, and before I forget, the standard disclaimer applies. 

Hope you enjoy! 

Chapter 1 : Promises 

The child shivered, and drew her cloak around her with stiff, reddened fingers. The rain continued pouring down in torrents, and the wind whipped at her. She tried her best to take herself away, to a place where she might be warm, and dry and not hungry or tired. Where she would never be terribly frightened, nor so shakily anchored, with images of the attack that killed her parents, when the fighting between the Catholics and the Protestants had been visited upon their small village, no longer always with her. Sometimes it seemed like she had never known such a place, and other times the faintest wisp of memory.

She stumbled, and her companion caught her.

"_Doucement_." Careful, he said. Tears pricked her eyes, which she hastily blinked away. How much longer? She wondered. Then she felt, rather than saw, his reassuring smile. "Hold on for just a bit longer, little one.. We're nearly there-can you believe it?" she felt his excitement. "It's really not much further. _Promis._" 

Élise could rely on his promises, she knew that - she trusted Hervé without question. It was he who had been there since – she didn't want to think about it. Instead she thought of how an old friend of her mother and father, visiting, had rescued her from the confusion then surely and quietly led her to safety, then gently bound her wounded hand. How he'd charged himself with accompanying her to her relatives and new guardians in England, his disarming smile as he'd told her "My business brings me there, a happy coincidence, is it not, mademoiselle?" She thought of the three months they'd been travelling – walking if they could, riding when possible, on the boat to cross the water, which had been a nightmare, as she had never gotten over the queasiness from the Ocean's relentless pitching. He had taken her from her home outside of Toulouse, France to here, to England, and kept her safe along the way. He had filled the great, empty black hole, and had given her a reason to care. He was her family now. 

It was only a few moments before they saw ahead the welcoming lights of small cottages, illuminating the dusk – it wasn't quite dark yet. The mist made it hard to see much else, however. Hervé told her,

"Our destination is a little ways at the end of this village. "

By now, she could barely see a hand in front of her face, but Hervé kept his hand tightly on her shoulder to guide her. An unearthly shriek suddenly made her jump, all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"_Nom de Ciel_, Hervé, what was that?"

"Oh..just the wind. I don't suppose you're used to it where you're from. Come now." 

Suddenly, the ground felt different beneath her feet, she could hear the distinctive lapping of water, and as her eyes began to adjust, she could see a little dock just ahead. It was still raining steadily but the wind was now calm. 

"We have to just cross a small creek. " 

He helped her into the small ordinary looking rowboat, and then he pushed off smoothly. She saw other dark shapes of similar little crafts in the water up ahead. 

Then a little while later, they came to dry land again, much to her relief. As she stepped out, the castle suddenly loomed up ahead, a sprawling and impressive structure that took away her breath. 

"Is..is that-?"

"Indeed it is." 

Silently he ushered her to a strange buggy, that was pulled..by nothing. She kept blinking, as if it was just a trick of the light, the horse has to be there. There were several other people, some her age, some adults with them. Everyone was silent, which was just fine at that time. They were borne swiftly toward whatever destination awaited them 

She managed to force her trembling legs down when the carriage came to a stop. 

There was a great door, and it was Hervé who pushed it open allowing their group – there was another carriage too – 

inside. She could only gape in wonder at the front hall, stranger and grander than any she'd ever seen.

Then she felt Hervé's hand on her shoulder, as he whispered

"Welcome to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, Élise." 


	2. The Sorting Ceremony

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Here's the second chapter, at last, hope you enjoy! 

Chapter 2: The Sorting Ceremony

She suddenly felt her exhaustion overtake her. It felt like her legs would no longer support her. The next minute, she was lifted into strong arms.

"Up we go." he whispered in her ear. "We're going to the infirmary, there's space for the night for you new students, until you get settled into your houses."

He soon deposited her gently on a cot. Soft feminine hands deftly helped her out of her wet things and into a nightdress.

And no sooner had she laid back that she drifted off into the peaceful oblivion of sleep. 

That night, she didn't get rest for long, however. Her dreams prevented that. 

She saw herself in her room at home, hugging her knees, crying, giving off bleakness and desperation. __

She heard her father's voice, through the stovepipe

We knew that she had a gift, that it would very difficult for her, but this.. is there really no other choice? 

Her mother's dress sky blue to match her eyes, moist as she bade Elise farewell in the warm sunny autumn afternoon.

Be brave cherie, strong like I know you are.

Will I ever see you again? Elise's own anguished question 

We can always hope so.

And Hervé, his reading spectacles falling down his nose, looking very in earnest as he sat in their drawing room. I know it is much I ask of you, but soon you'll have no reason to doubt – you'll see everything I'm explaining with your own eyes. 

She saw it all with crystal clarity, as if a fog had been lifted from her. 

Upon waking, she realised why that was, and without a second thought she was flying down the hallway propelled by rage. He was walking in the other 

direction.

"_Vassal de Satan_! Curse your name Hervé Laverrière! If that is your name, _salaud_!"

She flew at him, clawing, punching. But he caught her arms and pinned her,without even hurting her, her struggling against him was to no avail. 

"Such language, Élise. What would your mother say, if she heard?"

Don't you dare. I know. I know what you did!" 

"Of course you do. Of course," he said softly.

She was stunned. 

He continued on

"I don't like lying to others, little one, nor using magic to manipulate their minds. But I did it because it was necessary – I had to get to you come with me, quickly and quietly, and with no question, or you wouldn't have been safe. And if you remember, telling you the truth at that time wasn't exactly working. But now, is the opportune time to cope with all of it, if you'll let me help." 

She couldn't speak.

"Come with me. I have something to show you. Besides, it's better than giving everyone more of a show, now isn't it?"

She noticed for the first time, that the two other girls who'd been accommodated with her, and even the four boys who'd arrived the night before and had 

spent the night at the other end of the infirmary were at the door. They were all staring.

"Fine," she said. 

He lead her to his own room, at the other end of the corridor, and into what Élise supposed were his rooms.

He searched the desk for a moment, and then handed her an envelope. Her eyes were blurred by tears when the locket fell out into her hand – it was her mother's, small, heart shaped and gold, one her mother often wore. 

"Read the letter." Hervé urged gently, taking a comforter and wrapping around her shoulders for more warmth. and so she did. Well, that was one thing that told her the past three months had been real – it was Hervé who'd taught her to read. In fact, they'd spent most of their time during the month they'd spent in an inn-while Hervé recovered after his ankle had been broken in a stagecoach accident-doing just that, and had learned well enough so that there were only the occasional words she needed help with, still.

Ma chère Élise: 

I'm writing this as you lay sleeping, your last night here for a while, but you don't know that, you won't until you get where you're going. And even then, you will not understand. Unless we explain, your father and I. That we can do, at least, if nothing else. Still, it is hard to begin. Oh my sweet daughter, I wasn't the one who carried and bore you. A woman named Charlotte Gauthier did. Funny, how fast we became friends in spite of all that separated us. It seems absurd to me to this day – her, the daughter of a wealthy merchant and me the peasant girl who was hired to serve her family. I suppose neither of us really thought of it that way, at the time, we just didn't consider it. I was fifteen, then, and she was twelve. Our concerns were how to best spend the free hours together. Our concern was learning from one another. (it is thanks to Charlotte that I can read and write, while I offered in return such guidance as I could give – I would tease her that without me she wouldn't have turned out such a lady ) Our concern was trusting one another. That's why I never let her secret, her family's secret cross my lips.. until. well, I'll get to that. They were users of magic. And that, as I don't have to explain, was enough to cause much grief if it ever got out. Perhaps that's why it was Charlotte's dare to me, her test of my loyalty. Oh, I believed her, too, after a while, when I saw that this world she was showing me wasn't corrupted nor frightening in any way. Another secret would be between her and me, three years after we met. I was eighteen and just married. Charlotte found me, and I knew from her face there was trouble. The old familiar story – she loved him far more than he loved her. And she, because this is way we women were made, was stuck with the consequences. 

So what else could I do? Papa and I sheltered her for six months, until the time she brought you into this world. You father is a good man, not everyone would have done what he did, mind you. I was never expecting that she would put the tiny bundle into my arms almost right away and told me,

"She's yours. You'll take wonderful care of her, I know." 

She must have known somehow that the childbed fever would claim her a few days later. I tried my best to prove her right, and it was easy, well, you weren't a difficult child to raise but also more important you were my own flesh and blood from the moment our eyes first met, it didn't matter that we were not related. It was the same for Papa, as well. Not even after I have sons of my own, your brothers. The only difference was that we'd always see little reminders - things you'd do because of your magical heritage, that would point you out as different, which in this lifetime, a very dangerous thing to be. There was Hervé though, thank God, he watched over you with the devotion of a guard dog, you the child of his closest friend. And was ready to take you away when the time was right. It happened this year - 35 people have already been arrested, those who dare to practice herbal lore and other older ways, those who are simply odd. My stomach churns when I think of it. My heart pounds with terror at the thought that it might be you next. Papa tries to help by joking that the authorities would find everyone except the witch right under their noses. But he reconciled it too. I know this is the only option, since where you're going. He did find it hard to accept, but he does now he must; you'll be well hidden and protected, it's far away from here, and it's the only place now open that can teach you how to explore your talents. We had to let you go. It was the hardest thing for all of us, but the only right decision. So off you went, with your "chaperone" to convent school, or so we told the neighbours, you won't recall that. It was the best story we could think of to account for your departure. Think of it, a few years, you'll be a novitiate, well, they say if you can't laugh..

We think of you often, your Papa and your brothers and me, we pray that God will make your difficult journey go more smoothly and bear you safely to your destination.

Remember we're proud of you, and we love you. Always and for ever. 

Till Heaven grants us our next meeting, 

Ta maman. 

Élise sat there immobile for a long moment, until she was nudged back to herself. 

"I'm sorry, little one, but you'd best hurry., they begin breakfast in twenty minutes. Don't want to be late for the Sorting." 

She asked him at last in frustration what that meant, he explained.

"Oh." 

She stared back at the other girls' hostile look, her challenge obvious, as she swept her clothes- her clothes from the night before, but washed and pressed- into her arms, then stood behind the screen that was erected for the students, she washed and then dressed as quickly as she could manage – her underthings, her woolen stockings. The black dress also of wool, warm for winter. 

She pulled on and laced up her worn shoes and then quickly disciplined her hair into a fresh braid, which looked fine to her in the small glass. 

Everyone was still looking at her curiously, and she had to endure two minutes of this before a blessed interruption –the same woman she'd greeted last night, Madam TaylorShe was matronly and very neat- her apron spotless and without a crease, there was not a hair out place on her head. "But first," she informed them, you have to get your robes." 

She had an arm full of the garments, and went around to each person in turn, helping them, making sure of fit.

When she got to Élise, she said

I put this one aside for you especially, I knew you'd be a bit taller." 

That was an understatement. She stood a good head taller over the tallest boy there. It occurred to her for the first time that these other children were a few years younger than her. 

"There. It fits perfectly, I'm glad to see." 

She smiled, and then with sympathetic eyes gently brushed Élise's cheek with her hand.

"Poor poppet. It will work out, you'll see." 

"Thank you." Élise managed.

With that Madam Taylorsent them all down to eat. Élise could not stop gaping – strange glowing figures,-spirits, ghosts, they must have been- passed by, one walking right through Elise,giving her a thorough chill. 

"So sorry, my dear" it-she?- apologised. The staircases changed direction. The portraits talked. It all made her wish that she could just go, that Hervé would take her away from this devilry.

The eight students were ushered into a side room by a young beared man, who introduced himself as Professor Joseph Lewis, of Defence against the Dark Arts. 

"Now, please wait here in a line and don't move till I tell you."

"I wonder what the test is." one dark haired girl whispered, in English, and Élise understood – she was getting better, after some time spent in England.

The other English child, a boy named John replied

"I don't think they're supposed to say, at least, not for real." 

He smiled at Élise, she thought she would like him.

A girl with hair the colour of cornsilk, whispered to her, her English like Élise's- hesitant and accented.

"I'm hoping that I will not be with my older sister in Ravenclaw, but I am.. not smart enough, anyway, I think. Which House would you choose?"

"I- I don't know."

"Well, let us hope we're together, yes?"

In a moment, Professor Lewis gave Élise the signal. She was first in, and the Great Hall was even more impressive than the rest of this building, it's sky just beginning to show a little bit of red. There was a sharp intake of breath from those in her group, now. 

She heard around her the chatter of hundreds of students and adults, too. And many different languages – she heard French, to her relief, English, and others, she tentatively identified Spanish, Italian, German.

But the conversation died down when attention was called, and everyone's attention was fixed on the stool and the dirty looking pointed hat sorely in need of mending upon it. Suddenly, to Élise's surprise, a tear in the brim opened, and began to sing:

_

Welcome friends from near and far
Friends in weariness and strain
_

When change is all around

Take heart; there's one thing will remain. 

As in years past, you gather here

In fellowship, united, strong

But 'gainst all that may divide

Can you maintain the song?

Do not fail is the warning clear

And though not much to see

Though tattered torn and none too clean, 

The messenger is me

Still, for that I was not made, 

By Founders Four, agreed as one.

But instead to find your place, 

long after they were gone.

And that task is left today, 

A happy duty, and always so.

New pupils' hearts and minds to meet, 

And tell where they should go

You might be sent to Gryffindor;

If you are brave and daring

A lion's heart, a leader's strength

There can be no mistaking. 

Or you in Slytherin might dwell, 

Of greatness born, or so they say, 

But yet for those who walk this path;

The sword can cut both ways. 

Perhaps fine Ravenclaw may be

the house where you will thrive. 

With those of learning, studious all, 

Will wit and wisdom be your guide?

In Hufflepuff, you might belong-

Never least, though mentioned last-

If you've willing hands, are honest, 

patient, loyal, and hold fast. 

So try me on, this judge is ready,

Sit down and all of that, 

For wizards still can trust their fates to the

Hogwarts Sorting Hat. 

Then it was quiet. Professor Lewis stood.

She watched as he called their names in alphabetical order. One by one they each had to go forward, place the hat on their heads and wait to see which dormitory they'd be in and then in what classes. 

Apolito, Cecilia, the girl with the golden hair, was first, - she went to Ravenclaw, 

Then Baker, John, theboy who had smiled at her. After a long moment, he was proclaimed a 

Gryffindor. 

Guthrie, Andrew, and Halbrecht, Martin were next, Andrew went to Ravenclaw, Martin to Gryffindor.

And then the dark haired English girl, "Kirkham, Sophie" hurried up to the stool, her pigtails flying. The hat quickly yelled "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Morel, Élise" was the next name called, the second to last.. She went toward Professor Lewis, who placed the hat on her head. It soon fell down over her eyes. She could hear the hat's voice, murmuring:

__

Oh a difficult one we have here. Very clever, oh yes indeed. Made of stern stuff, too I can see. Much fear, though and pride, oh yes, lots of it, and enough raw potential..

Better be.. 

SLYTHERIN!


End file.
